


Bedtime story

by sweetiepie08



Category: Coco (2017), Princess Bride (1987)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Princess Bride AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-24 21:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13819806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiepie08/pseuds/sweetiepie08
Summary: Coco Princess Bride AUHector’s not sure how he, of all people, managed to have a daughter who didn’t see the value in love stories. Being the romantic sap he is, he reads her one of his favorites before bed. He hopes the story will show her the power of all types of love and it’ll become of her her favorites too.





	1. Chapter 1

Hector turned on the BB-8 night light, checked the closet for vampires, and kissed Coco 3 times on the forehead just like he did every night before bed. However, this night was special. In his hands, he clutched as storybook with shiny gold lettering and a watercolor picture of a kissing couple on the cover. He could hardly wait. Tonight, he planned to share one of his favorite stories in the world with one of his favorite people in the world.

“Ready for your bed time story, mi vida?” He asked

“Si, Papa,” Coco beamed from beneath her pink, flowery comforter. She kicked her feet and hugged her Chewbacca plushie close to her chest. It was Saturday night. Papa always told the best stories on Saturday nights. She didn’t need to get up for school the next day, so the stories were longer and more exciting. Her favorites were adventures. Sometimes he’d make up stories about Rey and Finn traveling the galaxy and fighting the First Order. Other times he’d read a couple chapters from a real book, mostly recently the first Harry Potter. Tonight, he carried a book she’d never seen. He’d read her old stories from books he had when he was kid before. Sometimes they were okay (not enough lightsaber battles, though). But she peaked at the cover and saw that it had (ugh) kissing.

“I hope you like it. It’s one of my favorites,” he said, opening the book. “It’s called the Pirate Bride.”

“Pirate Bride?” Coco asked, intrigued. “So the pirate is a girl?”

Hector chuckled. “Just wait and see.”

_[-Story Time-]_

Young Lord Hector grew up in a small village on the outskirts of the Kingdom of Santa Cecelia. His parents were Lord and Lady of the Southlands of the small kingdom where they lived. However, when he was eight, they sent him to be raised by a simple peasant family. Though they loved their son, they had to send him away for his safety.

You see, he was around the same age as Prince Ernesto, and he loved music just like the prince. This made him a prime candidate for the position of Royal Companion, someone who would be obligated, by law, to act as the prince’s best friend. This could be a very good job if the prince or princess was a good, kind person. However, the de la Cruz family ruled and they were notoriously jealous people. Royal Companion was a very dangerous position under them, as if the Royal Companion made even one more friend, they were locked in the dungeon for the rest of their days. It was rumored that Prince Ernesto set his sights on the young lord, and this scared his family. Hector was a very friendly and outgoing young man and his parents knew if he was appointed royal companion, he would be doomed. So, they asked a kind, trusted shoemaker family to take him in, hoping Prince Ernesto would forget all about him.

Hector spent his days at the workshop playing music, studying politics, and forever bothering the shoemaker’s daughter, Imelda. He was very bad at making shoes and he always had to ask her to help him fix his mistakes. Every time, she’d grab the shoe from him and sigh, “you idiot.” This became her constant refrain. He’d do something unbelievably clumsy, show off his musical skills, or tell her a terrible joke, and she’d always reply with “You idiot.”

One day, he stopped her in the middle of her chores to play her the new song he wrote. It was upbeat, colorful, and full of life. When he finished, she smiled, shook her head, and laughed, “you idiot.” That was the happiest day of his life, because that was the day he realized when she said “you idiot,” she really meant “I love you.” And that was enough to make his heart sing, because he truly loved her back.

[-]

“Papa...” Coco groaned, flopping back on her pillows. “Is this gonna be a kissing book?”

“There is kissing in it, yes,” Hector answered. “Don’t you like love stories? What about Frozen?”

Coco looked positively scandalized. “That is NOT a love story. Hans is a jerk!”

“Didn’t true love save the day?”

“Anna and Elsa saved the day, not kissing.”

“Fair point, m’ija,” he conceded. “But love isn’t all about kissing. You can have romantic love and familial love. Either way, it’s still a powerful thing.”

Coco looked skeptical. “More powerful than lightsabers?”

Hector leaned in and whispered like he was telling a secret. “More powerful than the Force.” Coco’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Let’s keep reading, eh?”

_[-Story Time-]_

They began their romance in full that day. They spent every moment they could together. One of their favorite things to do was to go into town to listen to the musicians play. They walked hand in hand and kissed under the stars, too caught up in their love for each other to think about what it meant for the future.

One day, Imelda went into town to run some errands. While browsing in the market, she overheard two gossipy old ladies mention her and Hector’s names. She tucked herself behind a food stall and listened.

“I mean, he is a Lord after all,” one of the women said. “He’ll have to go back to his family’s castle eventually, and when he does, I doubt he’ll take her.”

“Exactly. He’s probably already got a marriage arranged for him,” the other one added. “It’s not like a nobleman is going to marry some little cobbler girl.”

“You’d think she’d know better than to fall in love with him,” the first one said. “I guess she’ll learn once he leaves her behind.”

The two women walked away and Imelda was left with a sting in her heart. They were right. She and Hector were born into two completely different worlds. While she learned to make shoes, he learned how to run a region of a kingdom. He was born to be Lord of the Southlands. One day, he’d have to return to his nobleman’s life and she’d still be stuck in her village. She felt so stupid for thinking their love would last. A lord would never take a peasant girl as his bride.

She felt a fire in her heart and decided, fine. Fine. If he thought he could make her love him then cast her aside, then fine. He could think that all he wanted. But she wasn’t going to be the one left behind. She gathered all the money and possessions she had and took off on a ship in the night. She didn’t need her young lord. She was going to go out into the world and make something of herself on her own.

Though Hector was deeply saddened by her sudden departure, he never gave up hope that she would return someday. He watched the coast every morning and every night, waiting to see her ship sailing on the horizon. However, one terrible day, the family received word that the ship Imelda boarded was taken by the Fierce Pirate Valentina Rodriguez. This pirate was known for taking whole ships in swift but ferocious battle and leaving no survivors.

One devastation followed another for Hector. A short time later, he received word that his parents were killed by a mysterious assassin and he had to return home immediately to take on his duties as Lord of the Southlands. Heartbreak after heartbreak left him feeling empty inside. Though he knew well the joy and ecstasy of love, his heart was crushed beneath the pain of loss. He vowed that if he had to live in a world without his family, without Imelda, he would never love again.

His new embargo on love served him well in the court….

[-]

“Embargo?”

“Embargo, it’s like a ban. It means he doesn’t want it. He keeps away from it.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Anyway…”

_[-Story Time-]_

His new embargo on love served him well as a nobleman. Prince Ernesto hadn’t forgotten him in all those years away. He remembered Hector very well and still wanted him for Royal Companion. However, Hector’s parents’ worries about his easy way of making friends no longer applied. Hector closed himself off from people, preferring to spend his free time playing guitar alone. He didn’t want friends or family for fear he would lose them again.

So, when Prince Ernesto sent for him to join the court as Royal Companion, Hector’s only thoughts were about how it would benefit his people. Royal Companion had its perks. If he won favor with the prince, he could gain influence among the royals and help the average citizens of the kingdom who were so often forgotten or dismissed while the nobles clawed for power. With this in mind, Hector accepted the position and traveled to the kingdom’s capital.

He met the prince before as a child, but wasn’t sure what he was expecting now that they’d grown up. The prince was charming in a way that felt like he was putting on an act and was trying too hard to impress others. Hector felt sad for Prince Ernesto. He imagined it couldn’t have been easy for the prince to make friends when everyone had their own agenda and wanted something out of him. He figured the act was the prince’s attempt to be friendly while still keeping his guard up. Hector made an effort to be kind to Ernesto in hopes that the prince would learn what a real friend was like. Still, when he wasn’t tending to the prince or running the Southlands, he preferred to spend his time alone, playing music and mourning the loss of his family and his love.

[-]

“Liking the story so far, m’ija?” Hector asked, looking up from the book.

Coco had her arms crossed and her lips set in a tight line just like her Mama did when she was upset. “Papa, Hector better not marry the pirate.”

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s called the Pirate Bride,” she retorted. “And Hector didn’t marry Imelda, so he might marry the pirate.”

“What’d be wrong with that?”

“Uh, she killed Imelda!” Coco slammed her little fist down on the mattress. “How can he marry her after that?”

“We’ve only just begun the story,” Hector said, unable to hold back his knowing smile. “We don’t know what’s going to happen yet.”

“Well if Hector marries the pirate, I’ll be mad,” Coco huffed, crossing her arms again.

Hector laughed and ruffled her hair. “We’ll see, but you know, things aren’t always how they appear.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Just keep going with the story Papá.”

“Okay, okay, where was I?”

_[-Story Time-]_

As he spent more time with the prince, Héctor began to see why his parents hid him away. Most of the time, Ernesto was his usual artificially charming self. While this wasn’t bad for a start, Héctor hoped the longer they knew each other, Ernesto would relax and drop the act. As it was, being around the prince felt more like work than being with a friend. Héctor had experience hosting foreign dignitaries, and while he loved dealing with new people, there was always the underlying pressure to impress and not accidently say or do the wrong thing. That was the way it was with Ernesto. While it was fine most of the time, the smallest perceived slight sent him into a foul mood or a jealous rage.

Héctor had to walk on eggshells to avoid inadvertently insulting the prince. It was a learning curve at first. If he acted too chummy with the servants, if a lady looked too flirtatiously at him, if he played his music a bit too well, he had deal with either a sulking or raging prince. There was no predicting what reaction Héctor would get. It simply depended on Ernesto’s overall mood that day. But Héctor knew the dungeons were littered with failed Royal Companions and he didn’t want to join them. So, he developed some unwritten rules to always follow no matter how much they hurt his heart. He behaved curtly toward the servants, coldly polite to the ladies, and kept his talents to himself.

But tip-toeing around Ernesto’s moods was like tip-toeing around the world; it was exhausting, tedious, slow-going work. Constantly watching his every word or move took an emotional toll. Sometimes he just had to get away to give himself a break. He jumped on every opportunity to take care of something back in the Southlands. He didn’t care if he was just jumping into more work. Sometimes he just needed some space, miles and miles of space.

One such time, he returned to the Southlands to sort out some a trade dispute with the neighboring country, Santa Anthony. As Lord of the Southlands of Santa Cecelia, he acted as diplomat to all countries along the southern border. It didn’t take long to reach a compromise and the Santa Anthony dignitary was on his way. With that taken care of, he decided to stay a couple of extra days to relax before returning to his demanding prince.

One morning, he took his horse out for a ride near the coast. Some guards tried to join him, but he rode ahead, preferring some peace and solitude to clear his mind. As he rode, he’d occasionally hear a something rummaging through the brush, but assumed it was just an animal and paid it no mind. He kept going, trying to rid himself of the dread of returning to Ernesto, until he came across three men waiting along the path.

On the left stood a tall, large man with pointy ears and a thin strip of spikey gray hair on top of head. On the right was a round-faced teenage boy, some sparse scruff attempting to hide his youth. In the center, stood one of Héctor’s old friends.

“Chicharrón,” Héctor said, dismounting his horse. “What are you doing here?” He and Chicharrón went way back. They met as children when Chicharrón was page boy for a Santa Anthony diplomat who often passed through the village Héctor grew up in. Chicharrón became a messenger when he got a little older, and now was a dignitary in his own right. They got along well despite Chicharrón being a few years older than Héctor. However, their friendship deteriorated once they grew into their new roles in their respective kingdoms. It didn’t help that Héctor always lost or forgot to return everything he borrowed from Chicharrón.

“I just finished dealing with one of your colleagues,” Héctor continued. “I didn’t realize you’d be here too.”

“I’m here on a different matter,” Chicharrón answered. He looked around and asked. “Shouldn’t there be guards on this path as well?”

“Oh, I left them behind,” Héctor said. “I’m afraid I prefer to be alone these days.”

“Left them behind, eh? Haven’t misplaced them?”

Héctor laughed nervously. “Misplaced? What do you mean?”

“You know, misplaced. Like you did to my saddle bag?”

“Oh, well…”

“Or my good riding boot?”

“You see…”

“My red jacket? My dog whistle? My favorite quill? My uncle’s peg leg?”

Héctor pressed his palms together, put them to his lips, and took a sharp breath. “Cheech,” he said, putting on his best diplomat voice, “I promise I will pay you back for everything you lost.”

“Oh you most certainly will.” Chicharrón snapped his fingers. He waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Irritated, he snapped his fingers again and looked pointedly at his two companions. The two glanced awkwardly at each other and their boss, but again didn’t make a move. Chicharrón snapped again and commanded, “Miguel! Dante!”

“Oh, that was the signal?” The teenager asked. “Sorry, boss.”

The two men marched up to Héctor and each took him roughly by the arm. “Woah, Cheech, what’s going on?” Héctor sputtered out, struggling to pull his arms out of the two men’s grasp.

“I’m sure the prince will pay handsomely to have his little friend back,” Chicharrón answered coolly.

“You’re kidnapping me because I lost some of your stuff?”

“Wait, wait, kidnapping?” the teenager asked, relaxing his grip a little. “I thought we were just going to rough him up a bit and get your stuff back.”

“Yes,” Chicharrón groaned as if it should have been obvious. “What do you think we got the fast boat for?”

“I don’t know.” The teenager shrugged. “Convenience?”

“Cheech,” Héctor interrupted. “You don’t have to do this. I have my own money now. I can pay you back myself.”

“Sorry, no deal. We’ll see how you like being stolen, Héctor.” He turned to the teenager and said, “Miguel, do the thing.”

“Alright.” Miguel pinched a nerve in the back of Héctor’s neck, causing the young lord to fall unconscious.

[-]

“Lord Héctor’s going to be alright, m’ija,” dad Héctor said, putting his book down.

Coco clutched and twisted the covers in her hands. “I’m not worried.”

“Oh, I thought you might be worried,” Héctor said, readjusting the book. “My mistake.”

_[-Story Time-]_

“Cheech, is this really necessary?” Héctor asked, twisting his bound wrists in an attempt to free himself.

Héctor was stuck on a small sail boat with his captors headed for Santa Anthony. After they knocked him out, they attached a ransom note to his horse, boarded the boat, and went on their way. By the time Héctor woke up, they were already too far from the shore to make a swim for it.

“Cheech, listen to me,” Héctor said, turning to his supposed-friend at the helm. “You don’t want to do this. Just turn around and we can forget this whole thing.”

“Well, you are good at forgetting,” Chicharrón answered, pretending to think it over. “Like how you forgot to return everything you ever borrowed from me.”

“I’m telling you this as a friend. You need to turn around right now,” Héctor warned. “You don’t know Prince Ernesto like I do. He’ll take my kidnapping as an insult. He’ll come after you. If you take me back, I’ll just tell my guards I got lost in the woods and no one will ever need to know.”

“It’s too late for that,” Chicharrón dismissed, keeping his eyes level on the sea. “I already sent your ransom note.”

“Then if you let me go, I’ll convince him to drop the charge,” Héctor pleaded. He had to make Chicharrón see reason. A life was in danger here, but it certainly wasn’t his. “Look, Cheech, when he comes after you, he’s not going to pay up. He’s going to kill you.”

Chicharrón’s eyes widened a bit and a bead of sweat formed on his brow. “Not if we threaten to kill you first,” he blurted out in a panic.

“Wait, we’re going to kill him?” the teenage boy, Miguel, asked from his place by the sails. “I’m really not on board for that.”

“What? You’re afraid of killing now?” Chicharrón growled, forcing down his fear. “You’re a swordsman, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but not so I can kill innocent people,” Miguel answered.

“Listen you,” Chicharrón began, marching down from the helm and up to Miguel. “When I found you, you were just a grubby little run-away. You said you wanted revenge, so I got you trained by the best swordsmen in Santa Anthony. I didn’t do it so you could moan over who is and isn’t innocent.”

The larger man, Dante, made a sort of disappointed sound and Chicharrón turned his scorn onto him. “And you. You want to go back to where you were? Unemployed? Chewing bones like a dog?”

Dante frowned but made no other sound and Chicharrón stomped off. Miguel placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay, Dante. He doesn’t mean it. I think he’s just stressed out right now.”

Dante smiled a bit and went back to work fastening the sails. Héctor turned his attention to Miguel. He wasn’t sure how the boy got mixed up in all this, but Miguel seemed like a nice enough kid. Maybe, if Cheech wasn’t willing to listen to him, Miguel would. “Why are you after revenge?” he asked, trying to get to know the kid a bit better.

Miguel looked startled at being addressed. Apparently he hadn’t given much thought about how to interact with his captive. The boy cast an unsure glance up at Chicharrón who was back at the helm. When he didn’t receive any sort of guidance, he hesitantly walked over and sat on the bench next to Héctor. “Well, my parents were killed when I was 12 and-”

“Miguel! Stop talking to him!” Chicharrón scolded.

Miguel quickly shut up, leaving Héctor with only half an answer. “I’m sorry to hear that,” Héctor said, genuine sympathy in his voice. “My family was murdered a few years ago as well. My parents sent me away long before it happened, but the assassin killed everyone else. I even had a kid brother I never got to meet.”

The boy’s eyes widened a bit. “I had an older brother I never met.”

A thought started to come to life in Héctor’s mind. He lost his little brother, Miguel thinks he lost his older brother… Miguel did look about right age and did he see his mother’s eyes in the boy’s face? He shook the idea from his mind. He couldn’t let himself hope. The assassin killed his little brother along with his parents. His advisors told him that when he arrived back at his family’s estate. But then again, the bodies were already buried by the time he made it home… No, no, it was just wishful thinking, a foolish idea. Besides, this kid was from Santa Anthony, not Santa Cecilia. There was no way this was the same boy.

Héctor shook the idea from his head. “So what’s his story?” he asked, nodding toward Dante.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Miguel answered with a shrug. “I just met him when Chicharrón hired him for the mission.”

“Does he talk?”

“I don’t think so. I think he’s mute, but he’s really nice once you get to know him.”

Héctor nodded then quickly turned serious. “Listen to me, Miguel,” he said in a low whisper. “You and Dante seem like good people. I don’t know how you got caught up in this, but believe me when I say this won’t end well once Ernesto gets involved. If you let me go, I can tell the prince that you and Dante were unwilling participants and he’ll pardon you.”

“I don’t know…”

“I know Ernesto. I know how he’ll react and I know how he’ll try to get me back. Ernesto hunts with poison-tipped arrows and he’s very good. Once he catches up to us…”

“Don’t listen to him, Miguel,” Chicharrón barked from the helm. “He’ll tell you anything to save himself.”                                                                                                                                                    

Miguel’s gaze shifted between Héctor between Chicharrón. Héctor gave him a pleading look and a half-smile. He didn’t want to see this poor young kid getting hurt and he didn’t want Cheech to wind up dead either. He just needed someone to listen and turn this ship around.

Finally, Miguel let out a breath and went over to Dante. He hoped this was a good sign. Maybe the boy was just talking it out with his friend. Maybe they’d take him up on his offer. If Cheech was too stubborn to give up, maybe they wouldn’t be.

Héctor watched the two of them go back and forth. Miguel would say something and Dante would respond with facial expressions and hand gestures which the boy seemed to read pretty well. Suddenly, Dante stopped as his eyes fixed on something in the back of the boat. He pointed out at something in the distance. Miguel blocked the sun with his hand and looked out at the spot where Dante pointed. “Hey boss, what’s that ship out there?” Miguel asked.

Héctor turned to look behind them. In the distance he could see a larger ship with black and purple sails. It didn’t look like a ship from the royal navy. Those ships were marked by their sky blue and white sails. It couldn’t be Ernesto, could it? How would the Prince have received the ransom note already? How long was he knocked out for?

Cheech looked at the ship and let out a curse. “The Prince already? ¡Inconcebible!”

As Cheech turned the ship into a sudden swerve, Héctor kept his eyes on the mysterious ship in the distance. Could it be Ernesto? It was possible a guard found the horse with the ransom note and sent word to Ernesto via carrier bird. But would this be the rout he’d take? Would he disguise a ship to follow Cheech in secret? Something told Héctor no. He imagined Ernesto going out with at least a few navy ships with the royal colors waving proudly. The prince would want Cheech to know exactly who was coming and who had the stronger force behind him. So who was on this ship?

Cheech attempted to shake the ship, but to no avail. If there was any doubt that it was following them, it was gone now. It chased them well into the night. Chicharrón and his tiny crew took turns steering the ship while the others slept. Chicharrón whispered directions to Miguel before he took the wheel, then Miguel whispered them to Dante when it was the other man’s turn. Héctor tried to sleep himself. He didn’t feel he was in any real danger despite his position. Chicharrón was stubborn and irrational at times, but he wasn’t violent despite what he threatened. But sleep refused to come for Héctor. Other worries kept him awake.

This stupid stunt could cost Cheech his life. He didn’t want to see his old friend get hunted down and executed. And those two people he hired didn’t seem to deserve it either. Miguel was just a boy and Dante didn’t seem to have any ill will toward anyone. He’d have to get free and get to Ernesto first somehow. He could tell Ernesto that Miguel and Dante were unwitting accomplices and deserved a pardon, community service at the most if they really needed to be punished. It might be too late to get Chicharrón off scot free, but maybe he’d be able to convince Ernesto of a reduced sentence. Maybe banishment? Sure, Cheech would be barred from ever setting foot in Santa Cecelia again, but at least he’d be alive. It was odd, he realized, to be more concerned about the lives of your kidnappers than about your own life, but he couldn’t help it. Cheech was an old friend who Héctor really did wrong and Miguel and Dante just signed up for the wrong job, a job they apparently weren’t told the details of.

Then, there was that ship which became less distant with each passing hour.

The ship caught up to them by morning, not close enough to see who was on board, but close enough to make Chicharrón to spit out a string of curses. “¡Inconcebible! How did they gain so much?”

Dante made a series of hand gestures and Miguel shook his head. “No, I don’t think wind witches exist,” Miguel said.

“Whoever they are, they won’t be able to keep up for long.” Chicharrón pointed ahead and their destination showed through the fog.

The Cliffs of Hysteria. It was said men can go mad just by looking over the edge. Héctor wasn’t feeling any less sane himself, but he was worried Chicharrón might be. “You can’t mean for us to climb up that thing.” It was a bad idea for several reasons. For one, the cliffs could only be scaled by the most skilled and daring sportsmen and Héctor was sure neither he nor Chicharrón fit the bill. For another, the cliffs were Santa Cecelia territory, not Santa Antony like they originally intended. Even worse, this was not far from the Prince’s favorite hunting grounds. It would only make it all the easier for Ernesto to find them.

“ _We_ are not climbing,” Cheech said, gesturing to Héctor and himself. “Neither one of us is falling to our deaths before I can collect my ransom. They however…”

Héctor looked over at Miguel and Dante who were preparing a climbing rope.

“You can’t be serious. Miguel’s just a boy and Dante…” Actually, Dante looked like he could make the climb, but he shouldn’t be forced into doing something so dangerous for someone else’s gain.

Chicharrón ignored Héctor’s protests as he pulled the ship along the side of the cliff. He anchored and Miguel stepped off onto a flat rock at the base of the cliff. Carrying the rope diagonally around his torso, Miguel made the climb up. Héctor couldn’t help but be impressed by the boy’s agility and fearlessness, even while feeling his own palms sweat. Was Miguel wearing gloves? He hoped Miguel was wearing gloves.

Miguel crawled onto the edge of the cliff and disappeared from view. After a few minutes, he appeared again, a length of rope in hand, and shouted “I got it secure!” He then tossed the rope down. It unfurled until it reached the bottom. They all stepped onto the same flat rock. Chicharrón slung Héctor’s bound arms onto Dante’s shoulder then clung to the other shoulder himself. With his two passengers as secure as they could hope for, Dante began his climb up the rope.

Héctor kept his eyes shut for about the first half of the climb. He’d heard multiple times to never look down when a great height off the ground and this was the only way he could resist the temptation. Besides, if he was going to fall to his death, he didn’t want to see it coming. Some morbid part of his imagination wondered what it would be like to throw yourself off a high place and put yourself back together after the initial splat.

“What? He’s gaining? ¡Inconcebible!”

Héctor couldn’t help but take a peek after Chicharrón’s words. There was, in fact, someone climbing up the rope after them. The mysterious person was dressed all in black. It certainly wasn’t Ernesto. The build was too slender and a long black braid waved in the wind. Could it be a woman? It was either a woman or a slim, shapely man with unusually long hair. Either way, who would spend a day and a night chasing their ship and then brave the Cliffs of Hysteria? And for what purpose? Was it someone Ernesto hired? Or was there something else going on here?

Héctor was so busy pondering this question, he barely noticed when they reached the top. Miguel helped Héctor over the edge and then reached for his boss and Dante. As soon as Chicharrón’s feet hit solid ground, he ran for the rock which the rope was fastened to and began to cut it with his dagger. Strands snapped one after another before it finally severed and slithered over the edge. The four men looked down only to see the figure in black clinging to the cliff side.

“He didn’t fall? ¡Inconcebible!”

Miguel turned to his boss and furrowed his eyebrows questioningly. “You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

Chicharrón hand waved this statement and grabbed onto Héctor’s bound wrists. “It’s no matter. Miguel, you wait for our friend to climb up. If he falls, fine. If not, kill him when he reaches the top.”

Miguel grimaced, but didn’t argue with the order. “How will I meet up with you again?”

“You’re a tracker. Track us. And don’t come looking for us until that guy is dead.”

“Cheech, this is a mistake,” Héctor interrupted. They were running out of time. He needed to end this nonsense and fast. “We’re right next to Ernesto’s hunting grounds. Let me go, and I can make it to the palace from here.”

“Quite, you.”

“You’re only getting yourself in deeper. You can’t force Miguel into being a killer, and-”

Chicharrón yanked painfully on Héctor’s arms. “Enough of your stalling. Dante, come.” Without another word, Chicharrón ran off, pulling Héctor by his wrists. Dante hung back and gave Miguel a pitying look.

“I’ll be fine, Dante,” Miguel said with a half-smile, but his fidgeting fingers revealed his nerves. “I’ll meet up with you later. Go.”

Dante nodded then, with one last look, ran after his boss leaving Miguel alone to deal with the mysterious figure in black.

[-]

“Sword fight!”

“What?”

“There’s gonna be a sword fight!” Coco beamed, practically bouncing in her bed.

“Now hold on, m’ija. This story isn’t all about sword fights. Miguel has a dilemma, here. He doesn’t want to kill, but his boss just ordered him to-”

“Sword fight!”

The door opened and the girl’s mother, Imelda stepped in. “Are you still reading that story?”

Héctor glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already a good hour past Coco’s usual bedtime. Oops. “Sorry mi vida, it’s getting late.”

“Noooo!” Coco flopped dramatically against her pillows. “We were just getting to the good part.”

“Tell you what, we’ll read the story again tomorrow night. We’ll pick up right where we left off. Won’t that be fun?”

“No, now! Papá, read it now!”

Héctor and Imelda exchanged a sly look. “Hmmm….” Héctor hummed, stroking his goatee in faux contemplation.

“What?”

“I was just thinking, this story is too exciting for bedtime.” He placed a bookmark between the pages and snapped the book closed. “Maybe we should try reading to again when you’re older and know how to wait.”

Coco sat up, eyes wide. “No, no Papá. I’m ready. I can wait.”

“That’s my big girl!” Héctor leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. Imelda stepped in and did the same.

“Good night, mi vida,” Héctor said, wrapping his arms around his wife.

“We love you,” Imelda cooed in her gentlest voice.

Coco laid down on her side and snuggled into her blankets. Despite her protests, she really was tired. “Night, and remember Papá, swordfight.”

Héctor laughed as he and Imelda stepped out of the room. “Sword fight. I’ll remember.”


	3. Chapter 3

Coco put on her pajamas and brushed her teeth faster than her parents had ever seen her. Normally, she’d bargain for just ten more minutes of play time. Tonight, she popped up as soon as her parents told her it was time for bed. Within minutes, she was tucked under the blanket, waiting for her father to begin.

“Hmm, do you remember what part we were on?” Héctor asked, flipping through the book.

“Swordfight!” Coco chirped.

“We were at the part where he’s riding through the woods, right?”

“Swordfight,” she said again.

“Or was it one of the kissing parts?”

“No, swordfight!”

“Oh wait, I remember. We were at the really boring part where they watch paint dry.”

“Papa…” Coco groaned, flopping back against the pillows.

Héctor laughed and held up to book. “Okay, okay. Swordfight.”

[-]

The masked woman scaled the cliff side, occasionally taking a second to look up at the youth waiting for her at the top. He was one of the kidnappers, no doubt. He looked pretty young to have already fallen into a life of crime. Though, she knew in reality this was the case for far too many people. She ignored the sadness this brought to her heart. He was her opponent and soon, she’d have to face him.

Curiously, the youth kept glancing behind his shoulder and fiddling with the hilt of his sword. _This boy doesn’t want to fight,_ she realized. That only made the situation all the more tragic. What was this boy doing here? The kidnappers must have their motives, be it money or political gain. Was he brought on board with the promise of riches or power? He was still young and possibly foolish enough to believe he’d get away with it. High profile cases such as these almost never ended well for either party, which is why she felt the need to step in when she overheard their plans in a Santa Anthony tavern. She was going to make sure at least one person made it out of this alive.

“Um, excuse me?” The boy called over the cliff side. “How much longer do you think you might be?”

Was this boy really talking to her? “It’ll still be a while,” she called back with a bite in her voice.

“If I threw you a rope, would that help?” he asked. “I have extra. It should reach you.”

What was this? A trap? He could easily cut it again once she grabbed on. “It would, but I don’t trust you to help me,” she answered honestly.

“Yeah, that makes sense.” The boy paused and thought for a moment. “What if I swear on my honor?”

“No good. I never trust anyone who swears on an abstract concept.”

There was another pause before he asked, “What if I swear on the souls of my late parents?”

The way the boy said this struck her. She learned to spot a liar during her times on the high seas. She knew when someone was feigning emotion. This boy was no liar. His grief was genuine. His love for his parents was sincere. “Throw me the rope.”

The rope unfurled from the top of the cliff and landed just within her reach. She grabbed ahold and climbed the rest of the way up. When she reached the top, the boy held onto her arm and helped pull her over the ledge. It was confusing, given that the boy was just waiting around to fight. She reached for her sword, even though her arms still ached from the climb.

“Oh, uh, you can catch your breath if you want,” the boy said. He was surprisingly accommodating for a hired killer. What was he doing here?

The masked woman sat down on one of the rocks to catch her breath, but she didn’t take her eyes off of him for one second. He was just too nice, given the circumstances. It wasn’t just good sportsmanship either. He just seemed to have no idea he was supposed to be threatening.

“Excuse me, do you happen to look like a Chihuahua by any chance?” the boy asked.

She looked up, brows knitted together beneath her mask. “No…”

“Oh,” he said with a frown.

“You have a very specific type.”

“No, I just…” The boy looked down, hiding his face, and fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. “My parents were murdered when I was twelve. I escaped but, I saw the assassin. She had a face…”

“Like a Chihuahua?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. He took a breath, then continued. “After that, I ran away to Santa Anthony. That was when I met Chicharrón. He took me in. He let me train with the best swordsmen in the country so that if I ever meet the assassin again, I can avenge my parent’s death.”

“So why get involved in this?”

The boy looked down and shuffled his feet. “Chicharrón practically raised me since he took me in. I had to do this favor to repay him.”

“I see…” _The boy doesn’t want to be here._ She looked harder at his face. He was young. He tried to hide it behind sparse scruff, but he was young. “Exactly how old are you?”

“Me? I’m, uh…” He cleared his throat and put on a deeper, gruffer voice. “I’m twenty eight,” he finished, drawing himself up.

The masked woman gave him a skeptical look.

He deflated a little. “Twenty two?” he tried, but the woman remained unimpressed. “Eighteen?” he tried again. When the woman still didn’t believe it, he deflated all the way. “I’m sixteen…” he admitted with a sigh.

“You’re young.”

The boy shrugged in response. “It doesn’t matter. I’m still here. I still need to fight you.”

“Very well,” the masked woman said, getting up and drawing her sword, “You seem like a nice boy. I’d hate to kill you.”

“You seem like a nice lady. I’d hate to die.”

They began. The masked woman let him strike first. It was her custom to let her more honorable opponents take the first swing. She liked to play with them a little, find out what they can do. He had skill, there was no doubt about that, but he was hesitant. He didn’t attempt any fatal blows. She imagined he wouldn’t.

“You’re good,” she said, blocking his blow. “You said Chicharrón got you trained?”

“Yeah, trained with the best,” he said with a cocky grin.

She let him advance on her as she led the fight away from the side of the cliff. “And I assume this is the favor you had to do in return.”

“Yup.”

“Tell me,” she said, blocking another swipe, “what do you expect to gain from this?”

“Nothing.” He went in for another jab, which she dodged. “Just paying off a debt.”

“And Chicharrón?” She asked, testing him with a swipe of her own. “What did he tell you about this mission?”

“He said we were going after the guy who stole a bunch of his stuff.” The boy leapt up onto a rock, gaining the high ground. “I just thought we were going to shake the guy down. I didn’t know it was going to go this far.”

She jumped onto the rocks as well, continuing their fight on the rougher terrain. “You got yourself into one hell of a mess. Kidnapping Lord of the Southlands is a serious offense.”

“Wait, that guy’s Lord of the Southlands?!” The boy’s eyes widened.

He hesitated. The masked woman took her shot. With her hand still wrapped around the sword’s hilt, she swung her fist against the boy’s head, knocking him to the ground. She jumped off of the rocks and picked up his lost sword. He groaned, letting her know he was mostly alright, but he didn’t get up.

“Listen, boy,” she said, sheathing her own sword, “The Prince won’t take this lightly. Get out now, while you can.” She threw his sword behind a rock formation and ran off. By the time he picked himself up and found his sword, she’d be well ahead of him. Hopefully, he’d take her advice and leave this whole operation behind.

[-]

She didn’t have to run very far until she came across her next obstacle. The tall man stood in the center of a field surrounded by rock formations. She stopped. He watched her, but didn’t make a move. “Are you my next opponent?” She asked.

He responded with a hand motion.

“Oh, you use sign language. Lucky for you, so does one of my crewmen.” She signed along with the words she spoke. “Can you hear me?”

The man looked elated at having someone else who could understand him. He responded with a nod. _I am sorry. I must stop you,_ he signed.

“Well, I must get past you,” the masked woman answered.

The man signed again. _Why are you wearing that mask?_

“Oh this?” she tapped strip of black cloth around her eyes. “They’re just terribly comfortable. I made it myself, though I’m better at making shoes.”

 _What happened to my friend?_ He signed.

“Do you mean the boy?”

The man nodded.

“He’ll probably have a headache when he gets up, but he’ll be fine,” she explained.

The man smiled, but his lips immediately fell back into a frown. _Sorry, we need to fight now._

She drew her sword. “Nothing personal.”

The man advanced on her.  She advanced on him. As soon as she was in arm’s length, he knocked the sword out of her hands. He reached for her. She ducked and slid between his legs.

 _You’re fast._ He signed.

He reached for her again and she ducked out of the way. Her eyes fell on her sword, now laying in the grass across the field. The tall man stood between her and her weapon. She needed to get to it. He was too large to fight without it.

The tall man advanced on her again. She jumped up on a rock behind her and leapt across the rock formations toward her sword. She almost reached it, when the tall man’s large arms shot out and swiped her down.

She coughed when she hit the ground, but hopped to her feet as quickly as she could. The tall man loomed over. He still stood as a wall blocking her from her only weapon. She took a step back and heard a twig crunch beneath her boot. _Well, I have one more weapon._ With quick, skilled hands, she took off her boot and smacked him across the face.

The man fell back from the blow. He landed on his back, sprawled across the grass. With one hand, he reached up and sighed the letters O-U-C-H. He lifted his head, winked, and dropped back, closing his eyes.

Odd. Her opponent was pretending to be defeated? She cautiously tiptoed around him and picked up her sword. As she began to run off, the man clapped twice to get her attention. When she turned to look at him, he signed, _Thanks for sparing my friend,_ then fell back into his unconscious routine.

The masked woman smiled. She saw now. This man clearly cared more about the swordsman boy than any ransom he might get. She wondered if that was the reason he joined up in the first place. She didn’t have time to dwell on it, however. She ran off. There was still one more obstacle to go.

[-]

She spotted her target from a distance. Héctor was arguing with his captor while Chicharrón tried to pull him along. She noticed Chicharrón stopping to take a swig from a canteen and got an idea. She took a small vile out of her pocket, and inspected it. Once she was sure it was the correct vile, she drank the contents and pocketed it again.

“You there,” she called, running up the hill toward them.

They stopped and turned around, both unsure of what to make of her. Chicharrón pulled out a dagger and pointed it at Héctor’s throat. “Don’t come any closer.”

The masked woman put her hands up and tentatively took a step forward. “No need for that.”

Chicharrón stiffened. “I told you to stay back. You’re after him aren’t you?” He jabbed his dagger at Héctor. “Who sent you? The Prince?”

“No one sent me,” she answered.

“Then you’re trying to steal his ransom for yourself.” 

The masked woman paused, before taking another step. “Perhaps we can come to some arrangement. A wager, maybe?”

“No,” he growled. “You’ve already beaten my muscle and my swordsman. I know I’ll be no match in a fight.”

“How about a battle of wits, then?”

Chicharrón lowered his dagger, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”

“A simple test. Your choice decides our fates.”

Chicharrón smiled. “Very well.” He sat down on a rock and sat Héctor down next to him.

The masked woman joined them by the rock. She took out her canteen and a small vile. “We’ll need yours as well.” Chicharrón handed her his canteen. She turned, hiding both behind her, and poured the contents of the vile in one of them.  She shook them up and placed both canteens on the rock. “I’ve poured Padua poison into one of the canteens. It is undetectable by smell or taste and is one of the more deadly poisons known to man. You’ll choose one to drink from. I’ll drink from the other. Then we will find out which is right, and who is dead.”

Chicharrón let out a low chuckle. “Is that all?”

“Wait, hold on. I don’t think we need to resort to poison,” Héctor interrupted. “I’m sure there’s another way we can work this out.”

Both ignored him as Chicharrón continued to chuckle. “Well, it’s so simple. I simply need to figure out if you’re the type to put the poison in their own drink or their opponent’s.”

“Then choosing must be easy.”

“It will be once I work this out. You might have put the poison into your own canteen, as only a fool would drink from his own, so I can’t choose to drink from yours. However, you would have counted on me figuring this out, and put it in my canteen, so I clearly can’t choose to drink from mine.”

“Have you made your decision then?”

“Not yet. Padua poison is from Santa Anthony, and you know I’m from Santa Anthony, which means you might have suspected a Santa Anthonian might know of another way to detect the poison and put it as far from me as possible. So I can’t choose to drink from yours. However, you are clearly a pirate and as a pirate, you’d know all men can be killed. Therefore, you’d want to put the poison as far from you as possible, so I can’t choose to drink from mine.”

“Truly you have a dizzying intellect.”

“I’m not even finished! You might have guessed that I’d know you were a pirate and wouldn’t trust what you did to my canteen, so I can’t drink from yours.”

“You’re just stalling now.”

“I’m not stalling,” Chicharrón scoffed. “I know where the poison is.”

“Then make your choice.”

“I will. I choose…” His hand shot out as he pointed to something in the distance. “What in world is that?”

“What? Where?” the masked woman looked over her shoulder.

While her back was turned, Chicharrón reached out and switched the canteens. By the time she turned back, his hands were back in his lap.

“I didn’t see anything.”

“Must have just been a shadow,” Chicharrón said dismissively. “Now, let’s drink.”

Chicharrón picked up the canteen in front of him and the masked woman picked up the canteen in front of her. He watched her face, waiting for some telling flinch. When none came, he hesitantly took a drink from his canteen.

The masked woman calmly took her drink and set the canteen back down. “You chose wrong,” she said, a confident smirk on her lips.

“No, you chose wrong!” Chicharrón exclaimed, jumping up in triumph. “I switched canteens when you weren’t looking. You fell for one of the classic blunders! The first of which is ‘never pitch a tent over a fire ant nest’ but only slightly less well known is this! Never go in against a Santa Antonian when death is on the line!”

Chicharrón started laughing both out of victory and relief. All the while, the masked woman kept the confident smirk on her lips. She didn’t seem at all surprised when he suddenly stopped laughing and fell to the ground.

“Cheech!” Héctor shouted. The masked woman picked up Chicharrón’s dagger and used it to cut Héctor’s ropes. “You poisoned him,” he said, eyes still fixed on his former friend’s body.

“Yes, but I didn’t kill him.” The masked woman pulled him up by the shoulders.

“But, you said…”

“I lied,” she cut in. “I lied about which poison I used. This one will only knock him out for a few hours.”

“And that whole time, the poison was in your canteen.”

“It was in both,” she admitted, smiling at her own cleverness. “I took an antidote before the challenge began.”

Without another world, she took Héctor by the hand and led him away.

[-]

Héctor resisted and she pulled him along. Being kidnapped by Chicharrón was bad enough. Now he was being dragged to God-only-knows-where by this stranger. He took some time to guess who the masked woman might be while she and Cheech had their challenge. She was able to achieve feats few on earth could. She was brave enough climb the cliffs of hysteria, skilled enough to defeat a trained swordsman and a hired muscle, and clever enough devise a battle of wits on a moment’s notice. He knew of only one woman who could do all that, though he knew her by reputation only.

They’d come to the mouth of a ravine when he finally pulled away.

“Need a rest my lord,” the woman asked, her smirk now turned mocking.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” he stated firmly. “I know who you are.”

For the first time, her face faltered, but only for a second. “You’ve figured it out?”

“You’re the fierce pirate Valentina Rodriguez, aren’t you?”

Her smile returned in earnest and she let out a laugh. “So I am. What can I do for you?”

His expression darkened and his eyes pierced her. “You can walk into the sea and never breathe again.”

She looked taken aback by this, but recovered with a mocking tsk. “That’s a bit harsh. What have I ever done to you?”

“You killed my love.”

“Is that so?” she asked. “Who was it? A noble lady? A princess?”

“No, a shoemaker’s daughter from a small village.” He sat down on a rock and looked off into the clear blue sky. “Her eyes sparkled when she laughed. Her hair fell in soft, dark waves. And her voice… she could sing with the best of the angels…” He snapped out of his nostalgic trance and turned his venomous gaze on the masked woman. “That is, until you attacked her ship, and everyone knows Valentina Rodriguez never leaves survivors.”

The pirate watched him, taking in his. It was hard to tell her thoughts behind the mask. After a moment of silence, she strode past him, looking out into the distance. “I think I remember your shoemaker. She didn’t cry or panic when I took her ship. She simply told me, ‘no.’ She told me ‘I won’t die today. I still need to build my fortune and return to my family.’ She had so much spirit, I almost thought she’d make a good pirate herself. So I wonder…” Her head turned sharply back toward him with a scowl on her face. “How long after she left did you abandon the family that raised you?”

“What?” Héctor jumped to his feet, his scowl matching hers.

“I spoke to her,” the pirate snapped, turning completely around to face him. “She said her family was kind enough to take you in as a boy. That you had to hide from the Prince. She said they kept you safe all those years and now look at where you are. You’ve become his royal companion. You became exactly what they were trying to protect you from. I can only wonder what your shoemaker would say if she could see you now.”

“My parents were murdered,” Héctor argued back. “I had to take up their duties as Lord of the Southlands. I became royal companion to protect my own people.”

“How noble of you,” the pirate sneered. “I wonder how long until you forget your shoemaker for a royal lady.”

“How dare you?” He was furious now. He marched up to the pirate. Her deadly reputation wouldn’t scare him into silence. She knew nothing and he would not let her tell him who he was. “How dare you judge me when you go around, murdering whoever crosses your path? You kill without a care about who you hurt, what lives you destroy.”

 The pirate scoffed in response and turn her back on him to look off the edge of the ravine. His temper flared. She would not dismiss how deeply he loved or how painfully he grieved. It was an outrage, an insult to the loved ones he lost. “My parents and my love both died within a week of each other and I haven’t lived a day since.”

She continued to ignore him. She wouldn’t for much longer. The muscles in his arms twitched. Hesitance only flickered in his mind as he reached out. “Now you can die too for all I care.”

With a rage-filled shove, he sent her tumbling over the ravine’s edge. She rolled down the steep hillside. Her mask flew from her face and she called in an all too familiar voice, “You idiot…”

“Imelda! What have I done?!” He threw himself over the side and tumbled after her.

Down they went. Colors swirled. Grass and dirt collected on their clothes. The ground hit their backs with every turn, knocking the breath out of their lungs. Once they settled at the bottom of the hill, Héctor’s only thoughts were for Imelda. When he regained his breath, he rolled over and crawled over to where she lay.

“Are you hurt, mi amore?” He asked, brushing stray hairs out of her face.

“No,” she groaned, sitting up. “What about you? Can you walk?”

“Walk?” A puff of laughter escaped his lips. “You’re alive. If you want, I can fly.” And he felt he really could. His wildest dreams were coming true today. Why not learn to fly?

She smiled; a smile he thought he’d never see again. He put his arms around her and she held him in return. She was real. She was really real. There’d be time enough for questions and explanations later. All needed to know right now was that she was here, with him, alive.

They leaned toward each other, and kissed like they thought they’d never have the chance to again.

[-]

Héctor marked the book and shut it. “I’m sorry, m’ija. I know you must be disappointed to end on a boring kiss tonight but it’s past your bedtime.”

Coco looked back at him, eyes still wide and clinging to her Chewbacca plushie. “I’m not disappointed,” she argued. “But, we can read the book again tomorrow night, right?”

Héctor smiled and ruffled her hair. “Of course we can.” He leaning in and kissed her forehead. “Good night, mi vida.” 


	4. Chapter 4

Ernesto and his entourage rode to the location his lookouts gave him. They said they spotted Héctor being dragged along by another man. They were confronted by a masked woman, presumably a pirate. After a wager involving poison, the man collapsed to the ground and the woman intercepted Héctor, dragging him away herself.

They came to the place where Héctor was last spotted. There, they found one canteen and the man still lying on the ground. Ernesto dismounted his horse and approached the kidnapper. He recognized the man as a diplomat from Santa Anthony. _So, they were behind this._ His blood rushed with cold fury and he kicked the man in the side. Death came too easily to him.

To his shock, the man on the ground started coughing. “He’s alive,” he shouted. His associate also climbed down from her horse and joined him in looming over the criminal.

The man slowly sat up and opened his eyes. When he saw whose presence he was in, he scrambled to his knees. “Prince Ernesto. I’m sorry to have met you like this. I didn’t expect-”

“Calm yourself, señor,” Ernesto said, putting on his most princely voice. “No need to be frightened. I am out looking for my companion. I received a horrible note saying he’d been abducted and a lookout spotted him here. Have you seen anything strange?”

“Yes, yes, I saw him. He was with the pirate Valentina Rodriguez. I’m sure of it. I tried to interfere but she was too quick for me.”

“Really?” Ernesto’s appreciative smile had a hard edge which was hard to ignore. “Did you see which way they went?”

“No, she knocked me out before they took off,” The old man answered.

Ernesto smirked and rubbed his chin in faux contemplation. “It’s interesting. My lookout reported that she intercepted him from you.”

“No, that’s not true,” the old man panicked. “Héctor’s been my friend for years. I would never truly hurt him.”

“Truly?” Ernesto pressed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, I…”

“Did you threaten him?”

“No, I-I…”

“And what exactly is a Santa Anthony diplomat doing on my hunting grounds?”

The man looked like he was about to collapse. “Please, Prince Ernesto,” he begged. “My duty is to maintain peace between our two kingdoms. I would never jeopardize that peace. I…”

Ernesto chuckled and guided the old man to his feet. “It’s alright. If you want to prove your dedication, you can run a message for me. If memory serves, you are very familiar with that sort of task.”

The man was still shaking, but the fear was starting to leave his eyes. “Yes, Prince Ernesto.”

“I have a lookout stationed east of here,” Ernesto said, pointing into the distance. “Run to them and tell them to be on the watch for the pirate Valentine Rodriguez with the kidnapped Lord Héctor.”

“I will. Right away.”

The man took off without hesitation, _the fool._ Ernesto whistled for his squire who brought him his bow and a quiver of arrows.

“My prince,” his associate called from where she knelt in the grass. “There are tracks here. They lead this way.”

“Gracias Doña,” He said, lining up his shot. “We will follow them as soon as I am finished here.”

He watched as the old man ran into the distance. Once the man was far enough away that he might be starting to hope, Ernesto released his bow string. The arrow flew through the air and lodged itself in the old man’s back. He fell to the ground. Satisfied, Ernesto handed his quiver and bow back to his squire and mounted his horse.

The man was a fool to think he’d get away with it, to think his crime would go unpunished. He signed his death warrant the moment he touched the royal companion. Lord Héctor was a steward of the Prince. He belonged to Ernesto. And Ernesto did not let anyone take what was his.

[-]

The hours ceased to exist for Héctor and Imelda and they lost themselves in each other’s arms. They spent many long years apart and had to make up for lost time. Their moment was interrupted, however, when they heard hoof beats thundering above…

[-]

“Ew, Papa…”

“What?” Héctor asked, lowering the book.

“Were they kissing for that long?” Coco stuck her tongue out to properly express her disgust.

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ long.”

“Do you kiss Mama for that long?”

Héctor felt the heat rising in his cheeks and dove his nose back into the book. “Let’s just get back to the story.”

[- Story Time-]

“No, Ernesto,” Lord Héctor breathed as he looked up at the hunting party at the top on the ravine. “He’ll have you killed if he finds you.”

Imelda sat up and raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you just tell him I’m not the one who kidnapped you?”

Héctor crawled up against the side of the ravine for a closer look. “No, Ernesto has his arrows with him. If he suspects you, he’ll shoot you before I have the chance to explain.” He slid back down to the bottom and helped Imelda up. “We can’t let him catch up to us.”

“Then let’s go. This way.” Imelda took him by the hand and pulled him toward a thicket of trees west of the ravine.

“Through the geyser swamp?” Héctor gasped, scrambling to keep pace. “It’s impossible to survive in there.”

“Nonsense. Just because no one’s survived yet doesn’t mean no one can.”

[-]

“So, I realize this might be an odd time to ask this,” Héctor said, jumping out of the way of an erupting geyser, “but what exactly happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” Imelda asked, cutting down some vines with her sword.

“Last anyone heard, your ship was attacked by Valentina Rodriguez, but now you are Valentina Rodriguez. Does your family know you’re alive?”

“They do,” she answered. “I sent them a letter as soon as I could telling them I was fine and I’d found a lucrative job. I wrote them as often as I could,” she threw a sharp glare over her shoulder, “which is more than I can say for you. That’s how I knew you left them.”

Héctor’s insides went cold. She still thought he abandoned them? “I had no choice.”

“You could have at least wrote to them,” Imelda countered, a hard edge on her voice. “Just a letter or two wouldn’t have hurt.”

 _You have no idea…_ “I kept in touch at the beginning. I sent them at least one letter a week. But then Ernesto made me royal companion. He noticed that I still wrote to them and he knew they helped me hide from him. He started making comments about how old they were getting and how I shouldn’t be surprised if they died soon.” He shivered as he remembered the smirk that accompanied these suggestions. “I had to cut off all contact. I wanted to write one last time to explain, but I knew Ernesto had spies reading my letters. I’m sorry. I never wanted to do it.”

Imelda glanced back at him again, her face softening. “Well, at least you had noble intentions,” she sighed, before silently continuing to hack away at the brush.

Héctor couldn’t help but notice she never offered an explanation to him. “Imelda…” He grabbed her hand and took her in his arms. “Everyone thought you were dead. I was heartbroken. I thought I’d never love again. But here you are. Just talking to you right now is a miracle. Please tell me how this is possible.”

She smiled at him the way she did the last time he held her like this. For a moment, they were kids again, discovering love in the grassy hills of the town they grew up in. A geyser erupted behind them, causing them both to jump closer together.

Imelda laughed and turned to continue their trek through the swamp, this time keeping one hand in his. “I didn’t lie before,” she explained. “My ship was attacked and I did tell Valentina Rodriguez that I had no intention of dying before I earned my fortune. She told me I had enough spirit to be a pirate and she invited me to join her crew. Over the next few years, we sort of became friends. She’d often take me aside and teach me about the finer points of leadership.”

Another geyser interrupted them, temporarily splitting their hands apart. When it settled, they reconnected and she continued her story.

“One day, she invited me to have dinner with her in her galley. There she told me she wasn’t the original Valentina Rodriguez. Her name was Juanita. She’d inherited the title from the last Rodriguez who was now retired on an island, rich enough to never have to work another day in her life.  Apparently there’s a while line of Rodriguezes and she’d chosen me to be her successor. With a legendary name like Rodriguez, she said, you hardly have to do much. Crews will see you coming and abandon ship out of fear of the reputation. After that, all you have to do is board and take the cargo. It’s the legend that holds all the power.

“She and the whole crew would retire and I would take over as captain. We ported at a known pirate den. The crew took their shares and went on their way and she helped me hire a new crew. She pretended to be my first mate and called me Rodriguez. She coached me for a few weeks through captaining the ship, then took her share and retired as well. I’ve been Valentina Rodriguez ever since.”

“So you’ve been murdering and pillaging all this time?” Héctor asked, breaking his hand away.

“No, no murdering or pillaging, though there was thievery,” she admitted. “You see, if Valentina Rodriguez really left no survivors, there’d be no legends. No one would know the name. Maybe the original really did earn her reputation, but not the crew I was on and definitely not on my crew. Most just abandon ship when they see my sails, but the ones that don’t surrender on the spot. Everyone thinks they’re the one lucky ship that was spared. That how much power the name holds. Just put out enough stories about ships you’ve burned and the legend will survive.”

“What do you plan to do now?”

“Recently, I’ve acquired enough wealth for my crew to retire as well. I’ll appoint a new Valentina Rodriguez, then I’ll return to my family. We’ll retire to a beautiful island,” She turned back to Héctor with a mischievous smile and pulled him close, “and you will come with us.”

“Me?” He said, stepping away. “Imelda I can’t.”

Her face hardened into stone. “If Ernesto’s really as bad as you say he is, then you’re not safe here,”

“It’s not that simple. I can’t just leave the Southlands without a leader.”

“So, you plan to go back alone?” Her shoulders drooped and she scowled as she turned away and began half-heartedly cutting through the vines. “Just they said…”

“What do you mean?”

“The Lord of the Southlands would never take a shoemaker’s daughter for his bride.” Her voice sounded automatic, rehearsed, like she was parroting someone else’s words.

“What?” Héctor rushed to her and gathered her in his arms again. “Imelda, I always knew I’d have to go back someday and take my parent’s place ruling the Southlands, but I always intended to ask you to come with me.”

“I’m not nobility,” she stated, matter-of-fact.

Héctor laughed and shook his head. “So what? I don’t care about titles. I care about you. I can’t imagine loving anyone else.”

Imelda’s eyes glistened as she searched his face, looking for any hint of insincerity, but there was none to be found. She leapt up and kissed him. Another geyser went off somewhere in the swamp. They barely registered it.

Imelda pulled away, a smile still on her lips, but Héctor could see the wheels turning in her mind. Her face suddenly fell and she broke away from him. “Does that even matter now?” She asked. “How can we be together if you belong to Ernesto?”

Héctor rubbed his eyes and wracked his brain for an answer. Ernesto… Somehow, he’d forgotten. Even if they managed to slip past Ernesto’s hunting party, he’d still need to explain why he was suddenly with this strange pirate woman. They couldn’t elope. Ernesto would take that as an insult. He couldn’t tell Ernesto the truth either. Imelda was a legendary pirate now. Ernesto would have not trouble finding cause to arrest her _. But, if she were still just a shoemaker…_

“We’ll take your boat back to the Southlands,” he said finally. “I’ll go back to my estate and send a letter to Ernesto explaining that a mysterious woman rescued me and returned me home. You take your ship and finish getting your pirate affairs in order, then come back to me. Ernesto knows I have to marry eventually, and I’ve told him about my lost love. When you return, we’ll say you weren’t dead after all, just shipwrecked and you were finally able to make it home. You and I will marry and we can move your whole family to the estate.”

“What about Ernesto’s jealousy?” she countered. “He’s famous for it, even across the sea.”

“There’s nothing that says the royal companion can’t get married. Ernesto will have no choice but to accept it.” It was perfect, really. As Lord of the Southlands, getting married was expected of him and it was expected of Ernesto to congratulate him.

Imelda still looked skeptical, but accepted his answer with a nod. “Alright, I’ll trust you on this one, but I’ve heard things about Ernesto and if he ever tries to hurt you…”

“You’ll just have to rescue me again, won’t you?” Héctor flashed her a cheeky grin.

Imelda smirked and playfully nudged him with her elbow. “Let’s try not to make a habit of it. We’re not even finished with this rescue yet. Though it does look like we’re almost out of the Geyser Swamp.” She gestured with her sword toward a break in the trees up ahead.

“Wait!” Héctor grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“What’s wrong?”

“What about the COUSes? They’re said to guard the exit.”

“Chihuahuas of unusual size? I don’t think they exist.”

A yapping ball of fur leapt out of the bushes and pounced on Imelda, knocking her to the ground. It snapped at her as she tried to push it away. Héctor grabbed it by the tail and dragged it away. It turned on him and tried to bite at his ankles. He picked up a branch and swung at it, but even a knock to the head didn’t seem to deter it.

Jaws wide open, it made a lunge for his knee. Suddenly, it was jerked back as Imelda grabbed its hind legs and swung it into a tree. It hit the trunk and fell to the ground. It lay stunned as they backed away, Imelda’s sword raised. After a few seconds, it regained consciousness and shook off its shock. It leapt for them, but got caught up in the scalding hot water of an erupting geyser.

When the water receded, the creature lay crying and twitching on the ground. When she was sure it was no longer a threat, Imelda slowly approached it and plunged her sword into the poor thing’s heart, putting it out of its misery.

[-]

“Papa?”

“Yes, Coco?”

“You know the Chihuahuas that live next door?” she asked, squeezing her Chewbacca plushie tight. “How big are they going to get?”

Héctor lifted the book to hide his laughter. “Don’t worry, Coco. I think they’re full grown.” She had a point, though. Those little ankle biters were filled with more rage than their bodies could handle. If they were any bigger, they’d be more terrifying that an angry Rottweiler.

“Okay, can we get back to the story now?”

[-]

With the beast vanquished, Imelda and Héctor were able to exit the geyser swamp. They thought they’d cleared their last obstacle, but as soon as they stepped through the trees, they found themselves surrounded by Ernesto’s soldiers, with the Prince himself at the head. “Surrender,” he demanded.

“You mean you wish to surrender to me?” Imelda sniped. “Very well, I accept.”

“You’re in no position to play games,” Ernesto said with a sneer. “You’ve kidnapped my royal companion. If you don’t surrender him, you will die here and now.”

“You’ll have to catch us first,” Imelda countered. “We survived the geyser swamp. We can hide comfortably in there, so if you think you’re brave enough to follow us in…”

“I’ll give you one more chance to surrender peacefully.”

“Not happening.”

Héctor heard some rustling behind them. He turned to see two crossbowmen hiding behind the trees with their weapons aimed at Imelda’s back.

“I won’t ask again! Surrender!”

“Never!”

“Stop!”

Héctor leapt onto Imelda’s back, sending them both to the ground. He made sure to shield every inch of her body with his. A few feet away, a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the dirt.

  
“Héctor, what-” Imelda grumbled, trying to buck him off of her.

Héctor shushed her and lifted his head to face Ernesto. “Don’t hurt her.”

“What? She kidnapped you.”

“No, she rescued me,” Héctor answered.  “Do you remember when I told you about my lover who I thought was dead? This is her. After her ship was attacked, she became a sailor to survive. Promise not to hurt her and let her return to her ship, and I will go back with you.”

“Very well,” Ernesto said in his most stately voice. “You have my word.”

Héctor got off of Imelda and helped her to her feet. 

“What are you doing?” she hissed. “Can we still be together now that he knows who I am?”

“I don’t know.” He reached out and tucked a loose hair behind her ear. “But I love you more than anything in this world. I thought you were dead once and it almost destroyed me. I can’t let anything happen to you. I don’t think I could survive that a second time.”

“Héctor…” Her eyes glistened again.

He gently placed his thumb on her chin and kissed her one last time. They were interrupted by Ernesto loudly clearing his throat.

“Are you coming?” he demanded.

“This isn’t the end,” Imelda said, turning Héctor’s face back to her. “I’ll come back for you again. I promise.”

Their fingers lingered on each other as they separated. A soldier handed a horses’ reigns to Héctor. He mounted it and joined Ernesto’s hunting party.

“Doña,” Ernesto called to his associate. “Make sure our friend is taken care of.” He lead the party away, Héctor taking one last glance at Imelda before riding off.

Imelda was left behind with Doña and three other soldiers. “I’m perfectly capable of making it back to my ship without an escort, thank you.”

Doña laughed and her lips curled into a sinister smile. “Don’t worry. We’re not escorts.”

The soldiers closed in on her, cutting of her escape route. She looked up at Doña and scrutinized her face. “Has anyone ever told you, you look like a Chihuahua?” she asked with a smirk. “I may know someone who’s looking for you.”

Before she could get a reply, a soldier clubbed her on the back of the head and everything went black. 


	5. Chapter 5

“No, Dante, I’m sure they went this way,” Miguel said, as the two trudged through the forest. “No one is stupid enough to actually go through the geyser swamp, so they must have gone around.”

Dante tugged on Miguel’s arm to get his attention then signed, _Why don’t we just go home?_

“Because,” Miguel answered as he pressed on, “we need to make sure Héctor and that lady are alright.”

_But why?_

“Because, I think Héctor might be my brother.”

Dante stopped and stared at Miguel, mouth agape. _How do you know?_

“There’s something I never told you,” Miguel admitted with a heavy sigh. “I’m not just any runaway. Originally, I’m from Santa Cecelia.” He wandered to a nearby rock and sank down sas h told his story. “My parents were Lord and Lady of the Southlands. I always knew I had an older brother too, but I never met him. My parents told me he was hiding from someone bad and they’d explain when I was older. When the lady with the Chihuahua face attacked, I thought she was who he was hiding from, so I ran away and went into hiding too. Then, earlier today, when I was fighting the lady in black, she said Héctor was Lord of the Southlands.”

_So, that makes him your brother?_

“Exactly and maybe he can tell me who the Chihuahua lady was and why she killed our parents. Even if he can’t, he’s the last family I have and he seemed really nice. Maybe, with him around, I’ll finally be able to go home.”

Dante gave Miguel a warm smile and put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. Miguel smiled back and moved to give Dante a hug. However, they were interrupted by the sound of hoof beats coming their way. “It might be the Prince,” Miguel whispered.

He and Dante ducked into some bushes as three riders passed. The two men on the sides looked like royal guards, but Miguel recognized the woman in the center. He would never forget that face. His hand moved to his sword, but Dante stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Then Dante pointed toward the horse the Woman with the Chihuahua Face rode on. Draped over the back was the Lady in Black, unmasked.

Dante held Miguel back until the riders were out of sight. Once they were gone, Dante let go and Miguel leapt out of the bushes. “We have to follow them,” he declared, starting off.

Dante grabbed him by the arm to stop him. _Too dangerous,_ he signed.

“What? What do you mean too dangerous?”

_Royal Guards. Something’s not right._

“That’s exactly why we need to follow,” Miguel argued. “That lady was obviously trying to rescue Héctor, and the Prince had her arrested.” He grabbed Dante’s arm and began running after the guards. “There’s something weird going on here and we need to find out what.”

 [-]

Imelda’s head throbbed as she woke up. Her cheek laid against cold stone. The air smelled of earth and trees. Her brain was moving too slow to put together what this could mean.

She opened her eyes, expecting to find herself still in the forest. Instead, the first thing she saw was a row of metal bars. “Where am I?” she grumbled and she sat up, holding her head.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Imelda looked between the bars to see the Woman with the Chihuahua Face tinkering with some strange mechanical device. “Who are you?”

“You may call me Doña.”

“And what, exactly, is going on here, Doña?”

“Not much anymore,” Doña answered with a hand wave. “The Prince’s royal companion was kidnapped, he was rescued, and now they’re on their way back to the palace.”

“I know all that. I was the one who rescued him.”

“And I’m sure the Prince is grateful for that.”

Imelda glanced around at her tiny cell. _Strange way to show gratitude._ “Then what am I doing in here?”

“The royal companion’s first priority must be the Prince, of course,” Doña answered, leaving her machine and striding up to the cell. “Anything that may distract him from his duties must be done away with and I’m afraid your Héctor is easily distracted.”

“What do you mean?”

The woman smiled like a crocodile as she looked down at her captive. “Well, sometimes he gets a little too chummy with a servant, or another noble tries to befriend him, or maybe a lady flirts with him too often at a party. It’s all very distracting.” The grin grew wider. “There even used to be this little shoemaker family down in the Southlands.”

Imelda jumped up and gripped the bars. She tried to ignore her swimming head and spotty vision as she stared the other woman down.

Doña let out a light chuckle and continued. “He wrote letters to them constantly. It took time away from his duties. Luckily for them, he stopped writing on his own, but there was one person,” Doña leaned in and stroked Imelda’s cheek, “a dead peasant girl who always occupied his mind.”

Imelda shook the hand off without breaking her glare.

“She was by far the most distracting,” Doña continued, “but she was already dead. There was nothing to be done about it. Now you’re back; his lost lover risen from the dead. As you can imagine, that will be very, very distracting.”

“What are you planning?”

Doña turned away and paced back to her machine. “When someone becomes a distraction for Lord Héctor, the Prince lets me use them for my experiments. At the moment, I’m looking at the effects of tortuous noise on the mind and what sorts of noises bring the most pain. Could be useful in extracting information in the future. Blood can be so messy. This way would be cleaner.”

“You would know about that, wouldn’t you?” Imelda sneered. “I imagine you have plenty of experience spilling blood.”

Doña nodded and smiled smugly to herself as she turned on her machine.

Imelda was determined to wipe that smirk off her face. “I can think of a few major distractions you didn’t get to experiment on.” Doña’s face fell and Imelda continued. “Héctor’s parents, Lord Enrique and Lady Louisa of the Southlands. You’re the assassin who killed them, aren’t you? But there was another, a little boy who managed to escape. I wonder, does the Prince know? What would happen if he found out you couldn’t finish the job?”

Doña’s expression darkened as she looked back up at Imelda. “Let’s begin, shall we?” She put a pair of mufflers over her ears and placed a black disc on the machine. “Do try to stay conscious. I don’t want you to miss a thing.”

[-]

Miguel and Dante spent days staking out the seemingly innocuous tree in the middle of the woods. It was quite clever, really. The tree had no special markings or tells that might give it away. There was absolutely no reason anyone should fixate on it so intensely. Miguel and Dante might have passed it by without a second thought if they hadn’t seen its mysteries for themselves.

During their initial pursuit, they saw the Chihuahua-faced lady stop in front of the tree. She took the Lady in Black off her horse, dismissed the guards, and disappeared behind the tree. Miguel and Dante must have circled the tree a dozen times, but they couldn’t figure out where the lady had gone.

On the third day, while Miguel and Dante were again searching for a secret entrance, they heard hoof beats coming their way and hid in the foliage. The Prince rode into the clearing on horseback and stopped at the tree. Once again, the Chihuahua-Faced lady stepped out from behind the tree, but this time Miguel and Dante were able to see the secret door she went through.  

“Ah, Doña,” the Prince said, dismounting his horse. “How are your experiments going?”

 _Experiments?_ Miguel wondered as his mind turned to a dark place. By the grave expression on Dante’s face, he could tell his friend was thinking the same thing.

“Very well, actually,” Doña answered conversationally, as if she were talking about a new exercise regimen and not human experimentation. “She’s much tougher than the other subjects you’ve given me, which is good. I need to test my methods on someone strong.”

The Prince nodded. “Do you have what I came for?” he asked, clearly through with the pleasantries. “The King of Santa Anthony will be here tomorrow night. I need it now.”

“Of course.” Doña reached into her pocket and took out a small glass vial. “It’s the last of my supply, though, so it’ll cost you.”

“This little vial will put my name in the history books forever,” he said as he tossed her a coin purse. “Whatever the price, it’s worth it.”

“Any chance Lord Héctor will be a hindrance?”

“We don’t need to worry about him,” Ernesto dismissed, pocketing the bottle. “Getting him out of the way is part of the plan.”

“After all that trouble we went through to get him back?”

“It’s an unfortunate, but necessary sacrifice. I can’t have my name attached to a murder, now can I?”

“I’m sure the people of Santa Anthony would never forget,” Doña said, her smile twisting into something sinister, “not after what we do to their king.” 

“Good. Let them remember what happens when they cross Santa Cecelia.”

 [-]

Héctor took a breath to calm his nerves and knocked on the door of the Prince’s chambers. Ernesto called him in. The Prince sat at a cluttered desk, completing a letter. _It’ll be alright,_ Héctor reminded himself. _It’s not like I’m asking for anything outrageous, just a trip home_. Most people wouldn’t think twice about it, but the Prince wasn’t most people and Héctor lived with him long enough to know that anything could be perceived as a slight.

 _I have to do it. It’s for Imelda._ Héctor swallowed his fears one last time and began. “Ernesto, I know the summons with the King of Santa Anthony is tomorrow night, but I need to leave the next day.”

Ernesto looked up from his writing and gave him a quizzical look. “Héctor, the King is coming specifically to apologize to you. He’ll be here for 3 days. You can’t leave.”

“I know, but I have urgent business to take care of in the Southlands and…”

“Hmm…”

“What?”

“It’s just strange,” the Prince commented, twisting the quill in his fingers. “I know you don’t have any dignitaries from foreign countries to receive, there are no grievances with the lesser lords that I know about, and tax season isn’t until next spring. So what, exactly could be this urgent business.” Ernesto smiled then. Héctor knew that smile. _You’re not telling me something,_ it said. _The more you lie, the more trouble you’ll be in._ The Prince must have sensed his unease, because he then added, “Héctor, we’re friends, aren’t we? If there’s something you need to tell me, just say it.”

Héctor let out a defeated sigh. “I asked Imelda to marry me.”

“When?”

“In the geyser swamp.”

Ernesto’s lips quirked into a playful smirk. “Hardly romantic.”

“It was hardly my first choice, but I did and she accepted,” Héctor started to relax. This felt almost normal, like a casual conversation between friends. _Maybe he will accept the truth after all._ “I told her to sail her ship back to the Southlands and I’d meet her at my estate. I need to be there when she arrives so that they know to let her in.”

“So you were planning to elope without telling me.” The Prince continued to smile, but there were daggers in it now.

“No, no that wasn’t the plan at all,” he backpedaled. “I just wanted to make sure she was safe before I told anyone. I spent so long believing she was dead and…” Héctor suddenly stopped when the Prince placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Héctor, you don’t need to be so worried,” the Prince said. “I understand. I know this girl means the world to you. Go to her. Stay for the welcoming feast, let the King know there are no hard feelings, and you can leave for home first thing in the morning. I’ll smooth things over for you if need be.”

Relief hit him like a fresh summer breeze. “Thank you, Ernesto. You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

A servant then appeared at the doorway with a small knock. “Excuse me, my Prince, but there are a few last-minute details about the summons that need your attention.”

“Yes, I’ll take care of them now.”

The Prince left the room and Héctor finally breathed properly again. He couldn’t believe his luck. Had he caught Ernesto in a good mood? Or was Ernesto really learning something about friendship? Whatever the reason, Héctor was grateful for it. Telling the Prince about the wedding was only the first hurtle. Before, he dreaded Ernesto’s reaction to the actual marriage, but now, perhaps things would be okay after all.

His eyes fell to a tiny glass vial on the desk and his heart dropped into his stomach. It was identical to the vial Imelda used to trick Chich into believing she had a deadly poison. Perhaps it was the same vial and Ernesto had simply found it during his search. However, on closer inspection, he saw that it was full and the wax seal at the cap was unbroken. The only reason to use a wax seal was if the substance inside was too dangerous or expensive to let leak. If Héctor’s suspicions were correct, the clear liquid inside was both.

He wasn’t sure what possessed his hand, but he found himself swiping the vial off the desk and tucking it into his pocket.

[-]

“There must be some way to open it,” Miguel grumbled, feeling around the bark of the tree. Doña left her lair for the day hours ago and they’d been searching for an entrance ever since. Now that he knew where to look, he could almost see the cracks of the hidden door. However, what they couldn’t find was a way to open it.

Maybe it only opens from the inside, Dante suggested.

“No, she was able to get in from the outside before. There must be a way. We just haven’t seen it yet.”

So what do we do if we can’t get in?

“I don’t know! There’s gonna be an assassination attempt on a king, the Prince is probably going to frame my maybe-brother for it, and they’re doing weird experiments on some lady who probably knows him. This is turning out to be way more that I signed up for and all I know is, if we’re going to stop any of it, we’re going to need her help. But we can’t get her help unless we find some way to open this stupid tree!” Miguel smacked the tree on a knot and the hidden door flew open.

He and Dante blinked at it, then rushed inside. They ran down the set of spiral stairs and found Doña’s small, underground lab. Earsplitting music emitted from a strange machine in the center of the room.

“Gah! What is that?” Miguel shouted over the noise as he covered his ears.

Dante swatted him on the arm and pointed to the cell built into one of the walls. The Woman in Black laid on the floor of her cell. Miguel grabbed a ring of keys off the wall while Dante switched off the machine, mercifully silencing it.

Miguel tried each key until the cell door opened. “She doesn’t’ look good,” Miguel said as he pulled the woman out. “We need to get her some help, but where?”

 _The wizard,_ Dante signed before taking the woman in his arms.

“What wizard? What are you talking about?”

Dante raised his eyebrow and gently adjusted his grip to demonstrate that his hands were full at the moment.

“Oh, the magician?”

Dante nodded in reply.

“Chich told me about him once. He’s supposed to live in these woods. They say he can be in two places at once. If he can do that, I’m sure he can wake her up.”

Without wasting any more time, Miguel and Dante hurried out of the underground lair and went off in search of the magician.

[-]

 

Héctor’s racing heart contested with his slow gait as he fought to look nonchalant. The little vial he had tucked away didn’t help. If he had what he thought he had, he was carrying something highly lethal indeed. Sure, Ernesto hunted with poison tipped arrows, but he never used something this rare and powerful and it was usually stored in the armory with the arrows, not in his chambers. How long would it take Ernesto to notice it was gone? And what explanation could he possibly give for taking it?

But he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t even been caught yet. He could worry about that if and when it happened. Besides, it might not even be the deadly poison he thought it was anyway. First, he had to test it. Once he knew what it was for sure… well he didn’t know what he’d do then. Still, he had to confirm his own suspicions.

It felt like an eternity, but he finally made his way down to the stables. There were always rats down here, picking up whatever stray bits of the horse feed they could find. It wasn’t hard for him to find one sniffing around a corner.

Héctor took a bit of carrot and placed it on the floor. He then took the vial out of his pocket and tapped a few drops of the clear liquid onto the carrot. The rat scurried up to it, gave it a few sniffs, then nibbled at it.

The seconds ticked by without a reaction and Héctor began to think he was mistaken. Maybe this was medicine or some sort of cosmetic and the similarity between the vials was a coincidence. The rat finished the carrot and started scurrying away when it suddenly stopped and fell on its side. It looked up at him with blank, glassy eyes. Héctor gave it a little nudge, but it didn’t move. He held his finger below the rat’s nose and tried to feel its tiny puffs of breath. _Dead._

“Experimenting?”

Héctor’s blood went cold when he heard the Prince’s voice behind him. “Yes,” he answered, his voice even colder.

“And what did you find?”

Héctor stood up to his full height and turned to face the Prince. “Odorless, probably tasteless, and one of the most deadly poisons known to man,” he said, presenting the vial.

Ernesto smirked with a sinister glint in his eye. “Why would I have something like that?”

“You’re planning on poisoning the King of Santa Anthony at the summons.”

The Prince’s smirk turned into a low chuckle. “Is that what you think?”

“Why else would you have this?” Héctor shot back. “Why are you doing this? For me? I never wanted-“

“I’m not doing it for you,” Ernesto cut in, his voice like ice. “You want to tell the king my plans? Go on, tell him. See if he’ll believe you over his own son.”

Héctor looked down at the vial in his hand. This poison was dangerous for certain, but it was also rare. Ernesto’s other poisons had a strong smell to them and would be too noticeable to use. _The feast is tomorrow night. There’s no way he’ll be able to get another in time._

Héctor raised his arm, ready to smash the vial into the ground. Ernesto caught his wrist before he could bring it down and pinned him against the wall. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed, digging his arm into Héctor’s throat.

“You won’t get away with this,” Héctor managed to choke out. “I’ll make sure-”

“You won’t speak a word of this to anyone,” Ernesto warned, wrestling the vial out of Héctor’s hands, “not if you care about your precious peasant’s safety.”

“Imelda?” Héctor’s heart slammed inn his chest and struggled harder to pull away from Ernesto’s grasp. “What have you done?  Ernesto, where is she?”

The Prince smirked and slowly backed off as he tucked the vial of poison in his pocket. “I’m keeping her alive, for now…”

His words stunned Héctor frozen. _Alive, he said. Alive, but not unharmed._

Ernesto relieved the pressure on Héctor’s throat and backed away, grin widening as he took in the terror on his supposed friend’s face. “She’ll stay that way, so long as you do what I say.”

Fueled by rage, Héctor launched off the wall and threw himself into Ernesto, taking them both to the ground. He could hardly tell what he was doing. Ernesto had always been bigger and stronger, but that didn’t seem to matter now. Somehow, he’d gained the upper hand. He tried for a blow at the Prince’s smug face, but the Prince caught his hand. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll-“

“Guards!” The Prince shouted.

Within seconds, strong hands grabbed Héctor’s arms and pulled him up.  

“Take him to his room and make sure he doesn’t get out,” Ernesto demanded, brushing himself off. He wore a look of fake concern, but Héctor could see the malice in his eyes. “I’m afraid his experience has left him traumatized. I’ll be sure to get him the help he needs.”

[-]

Héctor grinned and snapped the book shut. “That’s all for tonight.”

“Papaaaaaaaa” Coco groaned, flopping back on the bed. “You can’t just end it there.”

“I can on a school night.”

Coco sat back on her pillows, arms folded, and gave him her best pout.

“Cheer up, Coco. We’re almost at the end. We’ll finish soon.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“We’ll see,” he said, getting up and turning out the light. “Sweet dreams.”


End file.
